


To the Victor Goes the Spoils

by miraculousstorytelling



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst-free despite the premise, Bickering, Gen, Post-Canon, Stan gets Bill's powers AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculousstorytelling/pseuds/miraculousstorytelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stan begins exhibiting some of Bill's powers, Stan and Ford venture into Stan's mind to understand why. After learning that Stan is inheriting Bill's powers in the wake of their victory over Bill at the end of the summer, Stan must learn how to cope with his new powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanna Make a Deal, Sixer?

The Kraken roared as Ford aimed his fifth and final gun at it, tossing yet another spent gun to the ship's deck, "It's too strong! Stanley, we have to _move_!"

Stan grunted from behind him, trying desperately to disentangle their vessel from the Kraken's limbs, "A little busy, poindexter!"

A screech rent the air as Ford successfully hit the creature's eye. He let out a whoop of excitement, but it soon turned to terror as the Kraken swiped at him, one-eyed and _furious_ now.

Stan turned in time to see his twin knocked over. Conscious, but injured. Stan scowled, " _I told you we shouldn't have come here_." He dodged a tentacle, "But nooooo..." As he mocked Ford, he quickly tied a rope around his waist, "We can handle a big octopus, Stanley."

Ford grimaced in pain, "I never imagined it was real! I'm sorry!"

"We've been hunting anomolies for _four months_ and you didn't think a _Kraken_ was real?" Stan secured the other end of the rope to the mast, dodging another tentacle or three.

"The facts didn't add up! Everyone's stories were different!"

Stan growled in frustration and turned to face the monster, "Hey, ugly!" He ran to the edge, readying a punch, and leapt towards the creature, yelling, "Try this on for size! Left hook!" As his fist neared the creature's other eye, a blue flame engulfed his hand. The Kraken went down hard, and Ford painfully rose to his feet to tug Stan back onto the ship's deck, using the rope around Stan's waist. He could hardly believe what he'd just seen.

Once Stan was safely back on board, they both stared in horror at the blue fire covering Stan's hands. His eyes also glowed a faint blue.

"What the _hell_?" Stan asked, still catching his breath and beginning to shiver as the cold air hit. Adrenaline coursed through him, but it was rapidly fading. The flames died down, and Stan stared up at his brother in confusion, "...Ford?"

Ford was silent for a moment, "You...should get changed. You'll catch a cold."

Stan shot him an incredulous look, "Seriously?! You're worried about a cold? My _hands_ were on fire!"

"I don't know, Stanley! But I do know you need to dry off. We'll figure it out when we're safe." Ford winced as his own adrenaline rush wore off, and he felt the pain of a potential cracked rib. Maybe pulling his twin out of the ocean in his condition had been a mistake.

Stan frowned, "I'll steer. Where's the nearest town?" They both knew it would be wise to leave the area as soon as possible.

Ford tried to argue, but Stan threatened to punch him if he moved any closer to the wheel, so Ford decided to direct Stan to the nearest port.

Ford collapsed back onto the deck, catching his breath and wincing when he hit the wood behind him. As soon as Ford's attention was elsewhere, Stan peeked down at his palm, concentrated a moment, then stared, eyes almost cartoonishly bugging out, as a blue flame burst to life in his hand. He watched it for a moment, half-terrified and half-curious. This was Bill's power, wasn't it? What was happening? He clenched his fist, unconsciously dousing the fire. Whatever it was, the last thing either twin needed at the moment was even the slightest hint that Bill was back.

After they arrived, Stan changed into the hero sweater Mabel had knitted him, and he protested when Ford insisted on running tests to understand his "condition".

"All right, look. I'll let you run a few tests, but after we have to go straight to the hospital. Deal?" As he extended a hand, blue fire immediately sprang up over his palm and his eyes glowed blue.

The twins were silent for a moment, then Ford sighed, "I'm going to ignore that." Stan nodded as the fire slowly died down.

Stan patiently (Ford would later describe it in slightly more colorful and less flattering terms) sat through a barrage of tests before dragging Ford to the hospital for an x-ray.

After a lengthy wait, they were assured Ford had some deep bruises, but he was lucky enough to not have a broken or even cracked rib. The two were in perfect health (Ford had insisted on Stan being checked out, too), and they were released back to their ship.

Upon retreating to the ship, Ford insisted on resuming his tests, but Stan wouldn't hear of it. He had a more pressing concern.

"You need to look inside my head and see if he's still there."

Ford protested, "Stanley, we need more information first. We don't know what we're dealing with."

" _It ain't your head, Ford._ I've gotta know."

After a tense moment, Ford reached out to place a gentle hand on Stan's shoulder, "Hey, it's going to be fine. We'll figure something out. We always do."

Stan finally relaxed.

Ford moved away and pulled out one of the journals he'd recreated from Stan's scanned version, "I'll take a quick look. Just to see."

"No, you're right." Stan shook his head, "You should run some more tests."

Ford frowned, "Would you make up your mind?"

Stan threw his hands up, "Fine! Look inside, then!"

Ford growled, "Fine!" He childishly tossed the journal down on his desk, aggressively flipping through the journal until he found the page with the spell that allowed someone to follow Bill into another person's mind, "Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus. Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!"

Stan was quiet, glancing around for a moment before asking, "Uhhh... Did it work?"

Ford frowned, "Why..." Then, he slapped his forehead, "Of course. You need to be asleep for it to work."

Stan sighed, sitting in his favorite chair, "All right. Just give me a minute." He closed his eyes, though he could feel Ford watching him. He opened one eye, "Uhh... Look. This ain't gonna work if you stare at me like that. I don't want your ugly mug to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep."

Ford scowled, "Well, would you like me to leave?" His voice brimmed with irritation.

"Nah, just talk to me about that nerd game. You know... the buttress one."

Ford's voice rose in annoyance, "Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons is about more than just buttresses, Stanley. There's strategy and statistics. You played it! You know this! Furthermore, the game involves-"

He was cut off by Stan's snoring. He cursed briefly, but returned to his journal to repeat the chant.

He awoke in Stan's mind. Stan stood beside him, "What took you so long?"

They stood outside the Mystery Shack, still looking the same as when they'd left it, although this time it had been moved so it stood by the shoreline. A familiar swingset stood beside it, and a junky wooden boat with the title Stan O War written on the side rested on the beach. Ford was touched to see his brother had integrated some of their happier memories in his Mindscape.

Stan grimaced as he watched Ford look over the area, "Eesh. I gotta be here for this?"

Ford shrugged, "I'm still trying to understand how the Mindscape works."

"Well, let's get this over with, then."

They entered the Shack and heard what sounded like a TV. Contrary to what Ford had been led to expect by Dipper's recounting of their foray into Stan's mind, the Shack was quite close to its real life counterpart. The Escher-like stairs were gone, replaced by a large entry-way with several doors off to the side, some labeled, others blank. He observed "Good Memories", the door slightly ajar, "Bad Memories", the door bearing two deadlocks, "Hints of Stuff I Might Remember", with a cartoonish question mark pattern, and one labelled "Top Secret". Ford was almost disappointed Stan was accompanying him. He was itching to open that last door.

Stan sent him a look as though he could read Ford's thoughts, "Don't even think about it, poindexter."

They headed back towards the sound of the TV, looking for signs of Bill. They passed a few memories: Dipper and Stanley laughing. A chant of "Pines! Pines! Pines! Pines!" after a karaoke session had defeated a zombie horde. Ford calling him a hero after Stan had sacrificed his memory. Mabel floating above the red button in front of the portal, quietly saying, "Grunkle Stan... I trust you."

These must have been his most treasured memories. They lined the walls like prized family photos. Stan coughed, embarrassed, "Hey, let's keep moving."

They finally reached the TV room and saw the screen displaying a black and white rerun Stan instantly recognized as The Duchess Approves Once More.

Stan's face lit up, "I love this movie!" Then, he cleared his throat, "Um. I mean. It's...not bad. Abuelita likes it."

Ford chuckled, secretly thrilled to have some blackmail material on his brother.

They both froze when they heard a voice from the kitchen, "Disco girl. Coming through... That girl is- AHHHHHHHH!"

Bill had emerged from the kitchen, bearing a question mark coffee mug full of tea, which he promptly dropped upon seeing the elder Pines twins standing in the TV room. Stan and Ford screamed in response, pointing at Bill, while Bill settled on pointing at one, then the other.

After a moment, they stopped, simply staring at each other.

Bill raised his hands in a nonthreatening gesture, "Are...are we good now?" They finally had the chance to observe his appearance. He appeared less bright and more...scruffy? Was that possible? Could he grow a beard? Ford looked him up and down, confused by not only his robe, but also his slippers. Were those...Stan's slippers?

Stan roared, "We are _not_!" He made a move to punch, shouting, "LEFT HOOK!"

Ford gently grabbed his arm, "Stanley, he doesn't look like much of a threat, but you don't know what tricks he might have up his sleeves."

Stan scowled and ignored how his fist caught fire again when he lowered it.

Bill was covering his eye with his hands, "I'm _not_ a threat! I don't even have powers anymore!"

Stan and Ford turned to face him. Stan asked, "How's that now?"

Bill flopped back onto a very accurate recreation of Stan’s armchair, “No clue.” His eye narrowed, “All I know is I woke up here without my powers and I’ve been watching as this idiot got them.”

Ford sat on a couch that appeared between the chair and the television. Stan must have conjured it. Along with a large anvil Ford noticed dangling over Bill’s head.

Stan huffed as he sat beside Ford, taking the insult in stride, “Tell us what you know.”

Bill rolled his eye, “I told you. _I don’t know_.”

Ford snickered, “And here I thought you knew _lots_ of things.”

Bill sent him a sour look, “You think this is funny, Sixer?”

Stan piped up, “I sure do. You’re telling me you don’t have any magic at all?”

Bill grimaced and began to concentrate, focusing his attention on his hand. Stan and Ford tensed briefly, but nothing happened. Bill wailed, “Why me? I completely don’t deserve this!”

Ford glanced between Stan and Bill, “Stanley, are you thinking the same thing I am?”

Stan nodded, folding his arms over his chest, “Why are you starting to look like me? Hell, you even sound like me a little.”

It was true. The demon’s voice had taken on a lower, gruffer tone, and some of his phrasing was familiar.

“I keep telling you, I don’t know! This has never happened before!”

Ford folded his hands, “Okay, what’s your best guess?”

Bill hesitated, glancing between the two of them, vaguely aware of the anvil still hovering over him, “I’m, well I _was_ , a being of pure energy. Energy can’t be destroyed. It has to go somewhere. I chanted a spell to preserve myself, thinking it would go back to me, but it didn’t. I’m just stuck here, and the energy must have absorbed into Left Hook over here.”

Stan raised a brow, “What does that mean? I’m turning into you?”

Bill sent him a look that clearly conveyed his annoyance with humans and their limited cognitive capacities, “No, you idiot. I’m turning into a part of your mind, and you’re getting my powers.”

Ford was surprised to hear this, “Do you mean Stanley will gain your ability to enter the Mindscape?”

“Eesh." Bill rubbed the spot over his eye, "This is just insulting. He’s getting _everything_ , IQ.”

Stan gaped at him, “Everything?”

“Everything,” Bill confirmed.

Stan and Ford glanced at each other, processing this new information. Ford finally said, “So, Stanley will have your ability to make deals, your ability to enter the Mindscape, your knowledge, and anything else you can do… but he’ll still be him?”

Bill leaned back, “Now you’re getting it. He’s still human, though, so he sadly won’t get my good looks or immortality.”

Stan pointed a finger at Bill, “So, if I die…?”

Bill looked down, his top hat bowing forward, “When you die, I die, too.”

Ford frowned, wishing his journal was with him so he could take notes. Instead, he settled for fiddling with his fingers, “And you’re not sure why?”

Bill glared, “For the thousandth time, no, I’m not. I don’t know. Now, look, he’ll figure it out soon enough. He’s getting my knowledge,” He tapped the side of his head, “Remember?”

Ford nodded slowly, “Right.”

Stan stood, “Well, touching as this little reunion has been, let’s get out of here. And,” he snapped his fingers and a band with a blinking red light appeared on Bill’s ankle, “You try and snoop in my memories, and I’ll know.”

Bill slammed his fists on the armchair, “Oh, come on! I've already been through them all a bunch of times anyway.”

Stan let the anvil fall just for kicks.

Ford followed Stan outside where a portal awaited them. Ford stepped into it, “I’ll see you in a moment, Stanley.”

In a flash, they both awoke in their own bodies. Ford carefully picked himself up off the floor and Stan rubbed his eyes.

“So…” Stan leaned forward, “You believe any of that?”

“I’m not sure,” Ford responded slowly. “Hopefully he’s right and you’ll know soon enough.”

Stan grimaced, “I don’t know how I feel about getting that demon’s powers.”

“I…” Ford sighed, “To be honest, I don’t either, but…” He placed a hand on Stan’s arm, “I can’t think of a better person to handle them.”

He would soon come to regret those words.


	2. Grammar, Stanford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan has a bit of fun with some of his new powers, and Ford adjusts to no longer being the "smart twin".

"You're missing a decimal point there, Sixer."

Ford glanced between Stan and his blackboard, blinking owlishly as he considered Stan's correction, "You're...right, Stanley." He hesitantly added the decimal point, reluctantly tacking on, "Thank you."

Stan grinned and sent him finger guns before leaving the room.

Ford frowned, a bit irked by the show of superiority, but then Stan was receiving Bill's knowledge, which did include physics. This was just a side effect. Nothing to be concerned about.

 

"Eesh, Ford, you getting enough sleep?"

Ford looked over at Stan, "You're one to talk. I'm certain I heard you laughing at something around midnight."

"Nah, I just mean you conjugated that verb wrong," He indicated a line of text in Ford's journal between bites of cereal. "It's a rookie mistake."

Ford stared, flabbergasted, "This is _Latin_!"

"Yeah, so?" Stan asked, barely managing to hide a smug grin.

"Since when do you read _Latin_?" Ford asked, voice rising in frustration.

"Since this morning," Stan answered, smirking just enough to prove that yes, he was doing this to purposely annoy Ford.

Ford scowled and slammed his journal closed.

Stan chuckled, "That ink wasn't dry."

Ford bit back a frustrated shout and stormed out of the room, muttering curses in an alien tongue.

"You know I can understand that, too, right?" Stan called after him.

This time, Ford couldn't contain his aggravated yell. Stupid Bill. Stupid Stan. Stupid ink and quill.

No, Ford sighed, he didn't actually mean that last one.

 

Poker night was the worst night of the week for Ford. Stan always seemed to have exactly what he needed, but Ford could never catch him cheating.

"Three of a kind!" Stan declared.

Ford beamed, "I win! I have a flush!"

But, Ford should have known better than to celebrate, because Stan was a little too pleased to have actually lost, "Oh, sorry." Stan fanned out his cards, "I just noticed. It's a full house."

Ford nearly decked him for that one, especially when Stan almost fell off his chair laughing at Ford's crestfallen expression.

"How did you _do_ that?!"

Stan shrugged, "Guess I'm just lucky."

Ford narrowed his eyes at his brother, "Roll up your sleeves."

Stan rolled his eyes, but he did as asked, displaying his bare forearms, "Nothing up my sleeves, Ford." He grinned, "You gonna deal or what?"

They both ignored the blue flame that lit over Stan's palm at the mention of the word "deal". Ford grumbled, but he shuffled and dealt a new hand anyway.

 

"Stan, what are you doing?" Ford asked, staring down at his brother who was currently halfway inside the ship's engine.

"Just upgrading a few things." Stan wriggled out enough to look up at Ford, "You know, we could be going faster on less fuel if we just recalibrated the engine."

Ford scowled, "The ship is fine, Stanley. We're going at a reasonable pace, and going any faster will damage the engine."

"Well, yeah, unless we fix it." He indicated the altered schematics that lay by his feet, "See?"

Ford snatched up the paper, prepared to argue, but his words died on his lips as he looked over the plans. His brows climed higher and higher as he turned the paper and muttered the notes Stan had made along this sides. Much as he hated to admit it, Stan was right. They could optimize the engine, and it would actually improve their craft.

"Need me to explain any of it to you, Sixer?" Stan teased.

"No," Ford snapped, "Good...good work, Stanley." Then, he swept out of the room before he could hear Stan's mocking laugh.

 

After a week of Stan's increasingly irritating antics, Ford decided it might be a good idea to stop for supplies, though he'd be lying if he claimed he wasn't focused on the added bonus of separate living quarters at a hotel.

They found the nearest, most affordable hotel near the dock, and Ford wearily set his bag down, glancing around at the empty check-in counter.

"Who should I speak to about getting a room?" Ford asked, exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. He realized his mistake a second too late when Stan looked at him like he'd just won Cash Wheel. "Stanley..." Ford began, already on edge.

" _Whom_ should you speak to." Stan corrected, and oh did he savor that moment of silence before he continued, voice low and full of smug retribution, " _Grammar, Stanford._ "

Ford snapped. He couldn't help it, really. Stan had been nitpicking for days, and there was only so much a reasonable man could take. Before he could stop himself, Ford was already punching Stan's grinning face. Like old times, the two were grappling on the ground in seconds. Unlike old times, Ford actually managed to pin Stan down for once, shaking him and shouting something about punching Bill right out of him.

That was when security showed up and escorted them away from the hotel.

Ford sighed and slumped to the ground, "It's been a long time since I've been kicked out of a hotel."

Stan raised a brow, "When did you get kicked out of anywhere?"

"There was one dimension where eye contact was considered the equivalent of a death threat. I tried to be friendly, and, well, I think I was almost forced into a duel."

Stan chuckled, "Seriously?"

Ford laughed, "I managed to escape to this horrid M dimension. I almost wanted to go back and duel after seeing those absurd M-shaped vacuum cleaners."

"M-shaped vacuum cleaners?" Stan snickered, "How would that even work?"

"That's exactly what _I_ wanted to know!"

In the end, they found another hotel. Ford felt more at ease now that he'd taken out some pent-up aggression. Once he had a clear head, Ford realized it was a bit ridiculous to be so upset with Stan over a simple correction or...or thirty. He was just adjusting to his new abilities and having some fun. Ford could understand that. Given time, Stan would be easier to live with.

 

Stan did not become easier to live with. If anything, Stan seemed to take pride in finding new ways to irritate Ford. Living with such an insufferable know-it-all was truly...

Ford froze mid-word in his journal as he realized exactly why Stan was enjoying this so much. Ford had been the insufferable know-it-all for so long, Stang was enjoying the role reversal. After all, Stan was finally the smarter of the two, even if it was in large part due to an evil alien triangle in his mind.

Ford smirked. Now that he realized what was happening, naturally he had to retaliate. And what better way than holding up a metaphorical mirror for Stan to see just what he was doing?

"Oh, Stanley!" Ford called out with a sly grin, "Look what I just found!"

"Another multiplication error?" Stan teased from the other room.

"Even better!" Ford cheerily answered with false cheer as he pulled out his secret weapon, "Come here and see it."

Stan sighed and heaved himself to his feet, "You know, I've been thinking. Since I'm so much smarter than you, maybe we should track down some of those Percepshrooms. Feed 'em to Waddles again so you can talk to someone on your level."

Ford ignored the jab with ease, "I'm not sure Mabel would like that."

Stan frowned when he entered the room and saw what Ford was holding, "Oh, what? You said you found something _good_. That's just your dumb buttress game."

"Stan," Ford chided, "You know what it's called."

"Is this really why you called me in here?" Stan asked, almost annoyed.

Ford held up a piece of graph paper, "You start by drawing out your characters. Then, you roll a dice to determine their abilities. It's a lot of luck to start with, then comes the math."

"Wait, hold on. This suddenly sounds less boring than usual."

Ford grinned, holding up volume one of the manual, "There's all sorts of statistics involved, and wait until you learn about the currency conversion rates of dwarf dollars."

Stan frowned, "Was this always how you played it?"

"And you know his weakness?" Ford asked, savoring the moment almost as much as Stan had savored his own revenge.

"Yeah, sure. Prime statistical anomalies over 37 but not exceeding 51." Then his eyes widened in shock as he glanced between the game and Ford, "Wait, how did I know that?"

"Bill and I used to play," Ford answered with a smug smile, "You must have gotten that information from him, too."

Stan looked distinctly uncomfortable as he stared down at the board.

"You want to play, don't you?"

Stan finally met Ford's eyes, looking haunted, "We gotta figure out how to undo this."


End file.
